


Colours

by BlackIbis (WanderingBandurria)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Drabble, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Injuries, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Psychological Trauma, Remus Lupin Lost Years, Self-Destruction, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, This is angst people, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, self-depreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:35:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingBandurria/pseuds/BlackIbis
Summary: Remus Lupin in the aftermath of the first war.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/James Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 25





	Colours

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Sometimes I write angst.  
> Please, please read the tags and consider the rating. This is heavy angst. Please be mindful about yourself if you are going to read this. The narrator follows Remus' POV and because of that, there are topics that are not clearly condemned or problematized - In particular, the self-depreciation and suicidal thoughts.  
> This is not betaed, so please excuse me if there's something that doesn't make sense. English is not my first language.

It feels like nothing. It feels like numbness. It feels like a void sucking him in.

So he goes out, again and again, and he lets people fuck him to try and feel something.

It feels like something. It feels like red, and blue, and orange.

But then it feels worse, even worse than before, because it’s not how it is supposed to be - it doesn’t give him pleasure, the connection between his body and his brain severed.

So he drinks, and drinks, and drinks. He cries in the bathroom and pukes in the garden and falls face-first on the pavement of his driveway. _His_ driveway, in his parents’ old cottage, because they are _also_ dead and now all of this is _his_.

It feels like something happening to someone else, so there’s no relief in there either.

He decides to go and confront Sirius. He’ll spit in his face. Tell him to fuck off his mind, to shut up in his dreams, to stop incepting thoughts in his messed up brain.

But the thing with Remus Lupin is that he’s a coward, so all the plans to go to Azkaban and punch, sneer and curse Sirius Black are postponed until after the moon.

And after the moon, he’s too broken to pull himself together. He’s only on this side of alive; so he postpones confronting Sirius Black until _later_. Just like that, it’s filed as _later_ , no time schedule, all the pretence of eventually doing it being dropped down.

It feels like something, though. It does. The wolf feels. The wolf doesn’t care. The wolf wants to rip, kill, eat. Nothing more.

And after the wolf, there isn’t void. After the wolf, there’s pain and dread and almost-death. There’s satisfaction about maybe being killed in the next full moon because Remus is too much of a coward to take things into his hands.

After the wolf, it feels like hope, and red, and orange and blue. But this time, they are all his. His colours. His deads. His chains.

He plays in his head over and over again the fantasy of spitting in Sirius’ face in Azkaban.

In the nights, he dreams that James spits on his own face, instead.

And some nights, James fucks him in his dreams, turning into Sirius while balls deep inside of him. He wakes up crying, trying to pretend that he can’t remember his dreams.

Because Remus Lupin is a coward, and as such, he won’t go to Azkaban to spit in Sirius Black’s face, not even once.

He’ll stay right where he is, starting to get numb again, losing himself into the rhythm of the months - full moon, waning, new moon, waxing. Full, waning, new, waxing. Full, waning, new, waxing. Like a prayer that only brings him closer to the edge. Like a prayer that can’t kill him, nor make him live. Not properly live, at least. He’ll stay in this purgatory, not learning his lesson, until the end of times.

Because Remus Lupin is a coward, and his heart is numb, and his mind is paralyzed, and all his past hopes and dreams look like a caricature made by a five-year-old.

He’ll just take the crumbs of his life, the crumbs left by better people that died instead of him, and make a mockery of a life to pretend that he’s still here for something, that his heart is healing, that his life has meaning.

And he’ll smile politely and dismiss shortly all the worried wizards that come knocking at his door to know how he is. He’ll take the job offers and reassure them that he’s better, that he loved his friends very much but that he can’t stay in the past.

And then he’ll close the door, to be left alone with his thoughts, and he’ll cry not because of his friends, no, because he’s _that selfish_ , but because of the unbearable emptiness in his chest.

He’ll keep the charade. It doesn’t matter how many years go by. He’ll go someday to spit in Sirius Black’s face, he promises to himself, and then everything will fall back into place, the void will be gone in that moment, like magic, and the dreams will stop, and the hope will be back, and the full, waning, new, waxing, full, waning, new, waxing, won’t be the only thing he’ll be waiting for.

He’ll do it someday; _any_ day, and then he’ll get out of this hell.

It’s just, that Remus Lupin is a coward, so he doesn’t deserve a full life.

So, it goes back to feeling like nothing - like nothing at all. It feels like grey, and pale blue, and like the lines of a watercolour fading away. It feels like red, and orange, and those things that, when you smell, you can almost taste in your mouth.

And black, and black again.

Black over and over again.


End file.
